Burke had to admit he was charmed by the atmosphere of the outdoor patio. A circular table rested in the center of a net-covered gazebo, offering a view of the tall redwoods and scented pines. The hush of the creek added to the ambiance, the soothing sound seeming to pick up in quiet bouts between conversation. Conversation that had, if he said so himself, gone very well.
Burke glanced over at Justine in time to catch her look away, blush, and then look back once again with a barely decipherable grin. And so it had gone off and on throughout the night. The two catching eye contact inadvertently. The looks exchanged causing heat to stir low in his belly.
A tangerine glow from the sunset penetrated the leafy area, and the warm tones reflected in Justine’s hazel eyes.Beautiful.
His pulse raced, urging him closer to her. He glanced briefly at the space between them, and then, with barely a second thought, Burke stretched an arm, extending it along the edge of the table toward her.
It had been an innate action—the honest desire to hold her hand— as natural as smiling, but once his was out there, palm-up and waiting on the table, darts of vulnerability poked at him.
Justine looked at his hand for a blink, that pucker forming between her brows, and then reached out and laced her fingers through his. Heat rushed through his body at her silky touch.
He glanced from Wilfred, who was topping off a glass of milk from a suspiciously freshly-milked looking glass container, back to Justine, whose gaze had turned to her granddad as well.If he had to guess at her thoughts, he’d say she wanted to know if Wilfred bought their whole falling-in-love story. He wondered the same thing.
They’d explained it just as Justine indicated, consistent with the narrative she’d told him in the beginning: They’d met online a little over nine months ago and instantly hit it off. They chatted for hours daily—a combination of phone calls and online chatting—learning each other’s hopes, fears, and dreams. Along the way, they fell in love. Burke, being the romantic he was, proposed three months into the relationship.
It was odd, but Burke found a certain satisfaction in playing the role. He’d like to say it was his protective nature, the desire to champion a woman in this area, but he knew it wasn’t that selfless.
Burke liked spending time with her. He’d felt a very distinct draw toward Justine the moment he met eyes with her outside the truck. Her complex nature was evident even then.
Like the odd level of faith she put in him—a total stranger at the time—said she was trusting. Her display with the cat said she was tenderhearted. Her experience with the girls who’d bullied her back in school, that revealed different layers—vulnerability, pride, and the sadness she carried over her mother leaving. A sharp knot twisted in his gut. How that must have felt to have her mother reject her in such a way.
He gave her hand a squeeze, infusing it with the feelings growing within him. A slight blush touched her cheeks in response, a sight that made him grin.
Justine gave him a squeeze in return. A purposeful action that had him wondering if she felt the same.
Did she, or was she just accepting help in a tight spot? If she’d wanted him keep up the charade through the weekend, he’d do it, gladly. But she didn’t. Either Justine really felt wrong about pretending, which he understood, or she thought it was too much to ask and wanted to spare him.
Another possibility came to mind, one that made his gut churn—she could be worried about him actually falling for her. If Justine didn’t see potential there, if she hadn’t felt what he had, she might fear that very thing.
“Well,” Wilfred said after gulping a quarter of his milk. “You’ve got quite the modern day love story. Meeting through technology as you did.” He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and leveled a look at Burke. “But tell me this, what is it you love most about my Justine?”
A flash of heat pushed up his neck and into his face. Burke released her hand as he broke out in a sweat and cleared his throat.What didn’t he like?
He turned his eyes on Justine in time to catch a darker shade of pink tint her cheeks. He saw something else on her face too—worry. This wasn’t something they’d rehearsed.
She needn’t worry for long.
“I admire the way she lives in the moment,” Burke said.
The deepening furrow in the old man’s already wrinkled brow said he wasn’t impressed.
“I know that sounds cliché,” Burke admitted. “I’ve heard it said in about a hundred different ways—be in the moment.But I didn’t know what that looked like until Justine came along.” He turned his gaze to her, admiring the way her green sweater accented the hazel in her eyes. Eyes that were fixed on him with interest as she rested her forearms on the table and leaned in.
“She slows down to enjoy things like a good meal,” Burke said, replaying the small moans of approval as she enjoyed the mushrooms, shrimp, and at last, the filet mignon itself.
“She can take a normal, everyday thing and turn it into something magical. Like glancing up at the stars just last night. She makes me see things in a way I never had.”
His pulse sped with hints of anxiety; he was sounding like a true sucker in love, wasn’t he? It made him feel exposed, in a sense. Almost see through. He gulped past the tightness in his throat, remembering that this—convincing Wilfred that he was in love—was precisely what he’d agreed to do.
He only hoped it wouldn’t scare Justine away; he might have beentooconvincing. But something in the soft set of her face, and the way she inched toward him even still, said these were words she needed to hear. She needed to recognize her desirable traits. Needed to believe them.
So he allowed for one last example, the recollection causing a shallow laugh to sound in his throat. “She gives pieces of her heart to stray animals that meet early graves. She’s compassionate, sensitive, and beautiful in every sense of the word.” A blend of warm confirmation and embarrassed heat swirled in his chest.
His gaze darted back to Wilfred. Something flickered over the man’s expression. Appreciation, maybe? A certain softness replaced the once scrutinizing furrow along his brow. Hints of delight toyed with the set of his mouth. But perhaps most telling was the moisture welling up in his eyes.
“Ah…” he said in a satisfied tone. “Youdoknow her, don’t you? You see what makes Justine one of a kind?”
“Yes.”
